Good boy.” She flagged the alert first with bright blue tape, then stood with him, scanning the area, calling Hugh’s name. Then closing her eyes to listen.
All she heard was the soft sizzle of rain and the whisper of wind through the trees.
When he nudged her, Fiona took the sock out of her pocket, opened the bag so Peck could refresh the scent.
“Find Hugh,” she repeated. “Let’s find Hugh.”
He moved off again, and in her sturdy boots, Fiona stepped over the log and followed. When Peck angled south, she called her new position in to base, checked in with her team members.
The kid had been out for a minimum of two hours, she thought. A lifetime for worried parents.
But toddlers didn’t have any real sense of time. Children of his age were very mobile, she mused, and didn’t always understand the concept of being lost. They wandered, distracted by sights and sounds, and had considerable endurance, so it might be hours of that wandering before Hugh tired out and realized he wanted his mother.
She watched a rabbit skitter away into the brush. Peck had too much dignity to do more than spare it a passing glance.
But a little boy? Fiona thought. One who loved his “Wubby,” who enjoyed animals? One his mother said was fascinated by the forest? Wouldn’t he want to try to catch it, probably hoping to play with it? He’d try, wouldn’t he, to follow it? City boy, she thought, enchanted with the woods, the wildlife, the
How could he resist?
She understood it, the magic of it. She’d been a city girl once herself, charmed and hypnotized by the green shadows, the dance of light, the sheer vastness of trees and hills and sea.
A child could so easily lose himself in the acres and acres of parkland.
He’s cold, she thought. Hungry now and scared. He wants his mother.
When the rain increased, they continued on, the tireless dog, the tall woman in rough pants and rougher boots. Her tail of pale red hair hung in a wet rope down her back, while lake-blue eyes searched the gloom.
When Peck angled again, heading down a winding slope, she drew a picture in her mind. Less than a quarter of a mile farther, if they continued in this direction, they’d come to the creek that marked the southeast border of her sector. Chuck and his Quirk searched the other side. Fast water in the creek this time of year, she thought, cold and fast, the verges slippery with moss and rain.
She hoped the little guy hadn’t gone too close or, worse, tried to cross it.
And the wind was changing, she realized. Goddamn it. They’d adjust. She’d refresh the scent again, give Peck a quick water break. They’d nearly clocked two hours in the field, and though Peck had alerted strongly three times, she’d yet to see a sign of the boy—a bit of cloth on a bramble, a print in the softened ground. She’d flagged the alerts in blue, used orange tape to mark their progress and knew they’d cross-tracked once or twice.
Check in with Chuck, she decided. If Peck’s on the scent and the kid crossed the creek...
She didn’t allow herself to think
Even as she reached for her radio, Peck alerted again. This time he broke into a run, shooting her the briefest of glances over his shoulder.
And she saw the light in his eyes.
“Hugh!” She lifted her voice over the now pounding rain and whistling wind.
She didn’t hear the boy, but she heard Peck’s three quick barks.
Like the dog, Fiona broke into a run.
She skidded a little as she rounded the turn on the downward slope.
And she saw near the banks of the busy creek—a bit too near for her peace of mind—a very wet little boy sprawled on the ground with his arms full of dog.
“Hey, Hugh, hi.” She crossed the distance quickly, squatted down, pulling off her pack as she went. “I’m Fiona, and this is Peck.”
“Doggie.” He wept it into Peck’s fur. “Doggie.”
“He’s a good doggie. He’s the best doggie ever.”
As Peck thumped his tail in agreement, Fiona pulled a space blanket out of her pack. “I’m going to wrap you up—and Wubby, too. Is that Wubby?”
“Wubby fell down.”
“So I see. It’s okay. We’ll get you both warm, okay? Did you hurt yourself ? Uh-oh.”
She said it cheerfully as she draped the blanket over his shoulders and saw the mud and blood on his feet. “Ouch, huh? We’re going to fix you all up.”
His arms still around Peck, Hugh turned his cheek and sent Fiona a pitiful, bottom-lip-wobbling look. “I want Mommy.”
“I bet you do. We’re going to take you to Mommy, me and Peck. Here, look what Mommy sent you.” She pulled out the little bag of gummy worms.
“Bad boy,” Hugh said, but he eyed the candy with interest while he clung to Peck.
“Mommy’s not mad. Daddy’s not either. Here you go.” She gave him the bag, pulled out her radio. When Hugh offered a worm to Peck, Peck gave Fiona a sidelong glance.
“Go ahead—and say thank you.”
Peck took the candy delicately from the boy, gulped it down, then thanked him with a sloppy kiss that made Hugh giggle.
With that sound warming her heart, Fiona contacted base.
“We’ve got him. Safe and sound. Tell Mom he’s eating his gummy worms and we’ll be on our way home.” She winked at Hugh, who fed the filthy and wet stuffed rabbit, then popped the same candy into his own mouth. “He’s got some minor cuts and scrapes, he’s wet, but he’s alert. Over.”
“Copy that. Good work, Fee. Do you need help? Over.”
“We’ve got it. Heading in. I’ll keep you updated. Over and out.”
“Better wash those down,” she suggested, and offered Hugh her canteen.
“Whazit?”
“It’s just water.”
“I like juice.”
“We’ll make sure you get some when we get back. Drink a little, okay?”
He did what he was told, sniffling. “I peed outside, like Daddy showed me. Not in my pants.”
She grinned at him and thought of Peck’s strong alerts. “You did good. How about a piggyback ride?”
As they had at the sight of the candy, his eyes brightened. “Okay.”
She wrapped the blanket securely around him, then turned so he could climb onto her back. “You call me Fee. If you need something, you just say, Fee, I need or I want.”
“Doggie.”
“He’s coming, too. He’ll lead the way.” From her crouch she rubbed Peck, hugged him hard. “Good dog, Peck. Good dog. Return!”
With the pack slung over her shoulder and the boy on her back, the three of them began the hike out of the woods.
“Did you open the door by yourself, Hugh?”
“Bad boy,” he murmured.
Well, yeah, she thought, but who wasn’t bad now and then? “What did you see out the window?”
“Wubbies. Wubby said let’s go see the wubbies.”
“Uh-huh.” Smart kid, she thought. Blame it on the rabbit.
Hugh began to chatter then, so fast and in the toddlerese that defeated her on every third word. But she got the gist.
Mommy and Daddy sleeping, bunnies out the window, what could you do? Then, if she interpreted correctly, the house disappeared and he couldn’t find it. Mommy didn’t come when he called, and he was going to get a time-out. He hated time-outs.
She got the picture because even saying “time-out” made him cry with his face pressed against her back.
